


Losing Count

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Italy, M/M, Table Sex, of course Snape cooks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-07
Updated: 2006-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things take practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Count

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a pinch-hit for harry_holidays 2006. The requester asked for unusual locations, so I sent Harry to Venice. Pre- _Deathly Hallows_ , thus tagged Alternate Ending.

Hermione wasn't wrong about most things, Harry knew, but this time she was absolutely mistaken. He slumped lower in his chair, stirring one packet of sugar after another into the thick muddy espresso sitting in front of him. Pigeons strutted at his feet, demanding the pastry crumbs from his plate. He shook the plate onto the flagstones, earning a disapproving look from the waiter.

Hermione had insisted that Venice would be a good place for him to escape. "A beautiful city, Harry," she'd said, "filled with history and art and a vibrant wizarding community. You haven't taken a vacation in three years. The DMLE will still be here when you return." She'd handed him a train ticket and his Muggle passport, dug out of the Ministry files and updated with a wave of her wand.

For the past ten days, Harry had left his tiny room at daybreak and walked for hours. He visited the tourist sites first, just to tell Hermione he'd done all the churches and museums she'd recommended, then thrown away her guidebooks and set out on his own. After exploring the Muggle _sestieri_ , he'd finally made his way to the old neighborhood in the geographic center of Venice.

San Polo was not only the place where Muggles went to shop, it was the center of Venetian wizarding life. Harry went up and down every tiny alley and through every archway he could find. On his third day in San Polo, he discovered a little bar tucked behind the fresh fish market. The owner was a wizard but served mostly Muggles, and he left Harry alone to write in his journal or just watch people go by. Today was no exception. Harry sat at his table, notebook open and unread newspaper folded beside it.

Despite the pleasant weather and the friendly greetings from passers-by, Harry was discontent. He'd come to Venice to get out of England - that goal accomplished, he wasn't quite sure what the point was in staying. He sighed and began to doodle in his journal, an awkward sketch of his coffee cup.

A shadow fell across the page. "The proportions are in error, Mr. Potter."

Startled by the comment, Harry looked up. A tall dark figure was silhouetted against the hazy late-afternoon sun, but even through the glaring light Harry recognized the other man. "Snape. What are you doing here?"

"I live here, Potter." Snape lifted a parcel neatly tied with string. "I am doing my marketing. What are you doing here?"

"Hermione's idea," Harry said glumly.

Snape chuckled. "No doubt. The hero of the wizarding world must find it difficult to relax at home, what with the adulation of the masses and the hordes of witches no doubt thronging your doorstep."

"Shut it, Snape." Harry closed his journal. "If you're going to snark at me, at least have a seat and a coffee."

Snape raised an eyebrow at the invitation, but dropped into the other chair. "You must be desperate for conversation." The waiter brought him a glass of wine. " _Grazie_ , Paolo."

"You're known here."

"Yes." Snape sipped his wine.

Harry stirred his coffee some more, then pushed it away. "Where did you go, after?"

"Straight to the point, Potter? Very well." Snape put his glass down and laced his fingers. "Directly after, I got Draco into hiding. He wasn't safe with the Death Eaters, and none of your lot would take him except Charlie Weasley."

"I knew that," Harry said. "Draco's back in England. With Charlie, if that matters to you."

"It doesn't, but it's not unexpected," Snape answered. "After that, I went back to what I had been doing all along: Voldemort's bidding, passed on to Minerva and the Order. When you finally held up your end of the prophecy, I left England."

"For here."

"Yes, mostly. I work for Blaise Zabini's father as a researcher, which is a formal name for an informal trade. He funds a laboratory, and gets first rights to anything I invent that he can sell to the gullible masses." Snape sipped his wine again. "And you?"

"Killed the Dark Lord. Not sure what comes after that, though I've been waiting for years to find out," Harry muttered. "I've got a desk at the Ministry and nothing on it, because ordinary work is apparently below my station. Hermione said I should take a vacation from my brutal schedule of reading the _Prophet_ and trying to convince Ron it's time for a beer break."

Snape smirked. "The golden life is not all it's said to be?"

Harry rolled his eyes and watched the people pass. "Do you know," he said after a while, "this is the best I've felt in months. You have no interest in me. It's rather nice."

"You're wrong, Potter." Snape drained his glass and stood, slipping a few notes under the napkin. "I have always had your interests at heart. I merely refuse to coddle you. Come along."

Harry pushed back his chair, adding his own money to Snape's. "Where are we going?"

"My flat. I refuse to let my purchases molder any longer, and the branzino was particularly nice today." He swept past the railing and nearly melted into the crowd as Harry hurried to catch up.

Snape led Harry through the market, past San Silvestro, and down a narrow street with balconies overhanging on both sides. He unlocked a heavy wooden door and stood aside, gesturing for Harry to enter, then locked it behind them. A steep stone staircase led to the top of the building, where Snape unwarded and unlocked a simple door. "My home," he said as he entered. "Do try not to break anything."

Harry crossed the threshold and paused in awe. Snape had the whole top floor to himself, heavy-beamed ceilings over ancient wooden floors, all illuminated by the low sun streaming through multiple windows. "It's -"

"Not a dungeon?" Snape chuckled as he unwrapped and put away his marketing. "No. It belongs to the Zabinis. I believe that Blaise's great-grandfather kept his mistress here, though all those steps seem inconvenient for such a purpose."

Harry crossed to the double doors that led out to a small brick patio. "The view is lovely," he said, looking out to the belltower of San Silvestro and the roofs of the neighborhood.

Snape came close, handing Harry a glass of wine. "Yes, it's beautiful," he said quietly. "I find myself rather attracted to the sky after years underground." He frowned as he spoke, then turned back to the countertop. "Feel free to look about as I prepare this. If you'd wipe off the table outside, we can eat out there."

"Can I help? I'm good in the kitchen," Harry said.

Snape cocked his head, then reluctantly handed a bag to Harry. "Scrub the potatoes."

Harry chuckled and set to work, then took the soapy rag outside and cleaned the table. Snape soon joined him with the wine bottle and another glass, and they sat quietly as the sun drifted below the rooflines of the city. When the lights on the canals began twinkling, Snape got up and went into the kitchen. Harry smelled something marvelous wafting out through the open door.

He returned with plates and a platter. "I do hope you will eat fish, Potter," he said, filleting the whole striped bass and portioning it onto the plates, adding roasted vegetables and drizzling the pan juices across the top.

"I've been eating nothing but crisps and prosciutto for a week," Harry said. "I'd eat Hogwarts curry at this point."

Snape snorted. "Let us hope this is better than that." He handed Harry a plate, and sat to eat his own meal.

Over dinner, they exchanged information (Harry thought Snape would chafe at calling it gossip) about various Order members and Death Eaters. Snape asked about Harry's impressions of the Ministry from within, while Harry was surprised to find Snape's current research interesting. As the food disappeared and the wine bottle emptied, the conversation slowed.

"And Miss Weasley?" Snape gave Harry a guarded glance. "You've not mentioned her. I assume you're engaged and making Molly's life unmitigated joy."

"Er," said Harry. He stood and gathered the plates, carrying them inside and scraping them clean. After a few minutes, he heard Snape's heels clicking against the floor.

"My apologies," Snape said evenly. "I did not mean to make you flee with a simple question."

"No," Harry said as he washed the platter clean. "It's just that - well." He turned to Snape. "I'm not with Ginny any more."

"Neville Longbottom could have ascertained that, Potter." Snape's tone was dry, but not rude. "I fail to see why that fact causes distress."

"It's because -" Harry's face burned, but he soldiered through. "It's because I figured out that I like blokes better. She's not a bloke. So."

Snape tilted his head. "Ah." He pushed away from the wall and took down another bottle from the wine rack, opening it with a wave of his wand. "And this news, has it caused trouble for you with your friends and adoring public?"

"Fuck my adoring public," Harry said, turning back to the sink. He scrubbed the baking pan with unnecessary vigor, angry with himself for thinking Snape would be interested in the Boy Who Lived's sexuality.

"Potter," Snape said, "do you hold the mistaken belief that you are the first gay wizard in the collective memory of English magic?"

Harry paused for a moment, then deliberately took down a tea towel and wiped the pan dry. He hung the towel back on its hook and picked up his wineglass. "No," he said, before draining the glass. "Were you?"

Snape smirked and refilled Harry's glass. "What makes you think I am so inclined?"

Harry hitched himself up to sit on the countertop, thinking it over. "I don't know. I've just always suspected it. You were so distant with the girls, like they were interesting specimens. And, well - you and Remus and Sirius all had an interesting relationship, and I know about Remus and Sirius, so...." He trailed off.

Snape considered this. "All true, though I am a trifle aghast that you noticed any of that."

Harry frowned a bit. "I was curious."

"Why?"

"First, I hated you. Then I didn't so much."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Then I failed my task. You were to hate me in order to focus your considerable, yet diffuse, talent."

Harry shrugged. "It worked until I realised I was attracted to you. Then I decided to hate Bellatrix Lestrange, which was much easier, because. You know. Girl."

"Yes, she is," Snape said distantly. "Potter - attracted? I was your _teacher_ , for Merlin's sake."

Harry jumped down off the counter and refilled his glass. "So? I've always had a thing for authority figures." He grinned at Snape, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Utterly inappropriate, Potter." Snape leaned back against the wall, frowning.

"Give over, Severus." Harry walked over to him. "Schoolboy crushes are not rare. Besides, I'm nearly twenty-two now."

"Positively ancient," Snape said dryly, though he still avoided Harry's eyes. "And no longer a schoolboy."

"No," Harry said agreeably. "Which means it's no longer illegal, unethical, or immoral for me to do this as well as think about it." He reached up and put his hand on the back of Snape's head, drawing him down into a soft kiss. Snape stiffened, then relaxed for a moment before pulling away.

"Potter -"

"Look," Harry said, "I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm not even asking for the night, if you're uncomfortable with the idea. I'm just tired of doing what other people expect, and I want to do what I want for once."

"You didn't even know I was in Venice."

"No. But I suspect someone did."

Snape's head snapped up. "Granger?"

Harry nodded. "Probably. She's known how I feel about you for years."

Snape closed his eyes. "Go away, Potter. Leave me in peace."

"Not until I finish my drink," Harry said.

Snape leaned back against the wall, gripping his glass firmly, and set his lips in a stern line.

Harry giggled, a bit overcome by the wine and the kiss. "You look like you're expecting an Unforgivable."

Snape snorted and relaxed a bit. "I would have thought kissing your professor was unforgivable enough."

Harry leaned forward and put his glass on the kitchen table, then grinned. "Call that an Unexpected. Besides, you haven't been my professor for years."

"It doesn't make a difference, Potter."

Harry took Snape's wineglass away and put it with its mate. "It does make a difference, if it means you'll let me do this." He moved closer and kissed Snape again.

"Harry," Snape said softly, "don't."

"Why not?"

"It won't solve anything."

"It doesn't have to," Harry said. He moved to stand between Snape's legs, kissing him again. As his tongue brushed Snape's lips, they parted and he found Snape's tongue sliding alongside his own. Harry settled into the kiss, thinking that it would be sufficient fuel for future fantasies, but was soon startled to feel his shirt being untucked and warm hands slipping under the hem. "Severus?"

"You are an impetuous whelp, Harry Potter." Snape's voice was smoky and low, edged with laughter. "You have spent the past ten years dragging me into one sort of danger or another to save your sorry skin."

Harry chuckled. "This sort of danger's more fun than the other, Severus."

"That is not the point," Snape said as he deftly unbuttoned Harry's shirt, which Harry quickly stripped off and threw across the room. Snape's long stained fingers trailed across Harry's chest, pausing to tweak a rosy nipple, as he claimed Harry's mouth again.

Harry struggled to undo Snape's buttons before he was completely swept away by the kiss, but managed only a few before giving up to the sensation of hands on his skin, thin lips crushed against his own, and the growing insistence of his cock, uncomfortably caught in his pants. "Severus?"

"Hm?" Snape finished undoing his shirt and shrugged out of it, then began to work on Harry's belt.

"Nothing," Harry whispered, letting his head drop onto Snape's shoulder as he watched him slip the belt free of its buckle. He went to undo his own trouser buttons, but Snape batted his hands away. "I can take off my trousers by myself, you know."

Snape frowned at him. "If you get to do what you want to do, Potter, grant me the same opportunity. You'll get your chance soon enough."

Harry shivered at the professorial edge to Snape's words. "What exactly do you want to do, Severus?"

As he whipped the buttons of Harry's trousers out of their holes, Snape laughed softly and bent to whisper in Harry's ear. "If I tell you, Potter, it won't be half the fun." He pushed Harry's trousers down over his hips, and Harry kicked them away. "One thing I do want to know, however. Are you a virgin?"

"No!" Harry regretted the slight squeak that had edged into his voice, but hoped Snape hadn't noticed it. "No, I'm not."

"Good: that saves time. Turn around and put your hands on the table, and hold that position."

Harry obeyed promptly, bracing himself against the battered wooden slab that sat in the middle of the kitchen. He listened intently as Snape moved around the room, opening and closing drawers. He thought he heard a metallic clank, then the soft whoomph of cloth hitting floor. He was about to break position and turn to see what Severus was doing when he felt fingers hook into the waist of his pants and pull them down.

"Step out," Snape said softly. Harry hurried to kick them off, shivering as he realized he was now completely naked, and bent over Severus Snape's kitchen table. If he hadn't been so unbelievably aroused, he thought he might have dissolved in laughter.

"Are you cold? You're shivering."

"No," Harry said. "I'm amused at the situation, though."

Snape harrumphed quietly and, without warning, slipped oiled fingers along the crack of Harry's arse, teasing at the tight puckered ring of muscle.

"God, Severus!" Harry pushed back, desperate for more contact. He heard Snape chuckle, then felt soft kisses along his spine.

"Relax, Harry." Snape pushed one finger inside him, then another. He kissed Harry's shoulder, fingers drifting along his flank. Harry rested his forehead on the table, moaning softly as Severus worked his arse. He started to reach toward his cock, but Snape batted his hand away.

"Hands on the table, Potter."

Harry whined a bit, but shut up promptly as he felt Snape's slick fingers slip out of him and something blunter pressing against his entrance. As Snape entered him, he also reached around and grasped Harry's cock with his oiled hand. " _Fuck_ , Severus, I'm going to -"

Snape squeezed and stopped moving. "This is meant to be fast, Harry, but not _that_ fast."

Harry bit his lip and struggled to back away from the edge. When he regained some control, he pushed tentatively against Snape. "Meant to be fast? I thought you were doing what you wanted."

"What I wanted," Snape said as he began to thrust into Harry and stroke his cock, "was to bend you over a laboratory table and fuck you senseless. This will have to do. As for - Merlin, Harry, quit clenching! - speed...I have never enjoyed first times."

Harry nearly choked as he tried to laugh and moan at the same time. "Me either."

Snape paused his rhythm. "Oh? Well then." He resumed, slightly faster.

Harry rocked his hips, sliding between Snape's cock and fist with increasingly frantic movements. Snape leaned forward and whispered a stream of tremendously dirty suggestions for their second, and third, and fourth opportunities. By the time he'd reached "Apparate to London and fuck you on Shacklebolt's desk," Harry was crying out and spurting over Snape's fingers. Snape removed his hand and anchored himself with a firm grip on Harry's hips, then plunged into him with increasing speed until he, too, tipped over the edge and fell forward to press Harry into the table.

A little while later, Harry wriggled out from underneath Severus and found his wand, cleaning them both. He neatened up the kitchen while he was at it. He grinned at Severus, who had slumped into a chair. "That was brilliant."

"That was fast and unskilled and thoroughly lackluster, Potter. Do not bedew me with inappropriate compliments."

"So," Harry said, "you think you can do better?"

Snape arched an eyebrow, though the effort clearly cost him. "Eventually. I am not as young as I used to be."

"Pish," Harry said, holding out his hand and pulling Severus to his feet. "You're just out of practice."

Snape sighed and followed Harry down the short hallway to his bedroom. "It's not a competition, Harry."

"No," Harry said as he scrambled onto the bed and pulled Snape down beside him.

"Then...."

Harry kissed Severus softly. "How many times will it take before you forget how many times we've done it? Three? Fourteen? Seventy-three?"

" _Seventy-three?_ When were you planning on going back to London?"

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, "I've heard that the seventy-fourth time is absolutely smashing." He rolled on top of Severus, kissing him again. "So at least until then. But I might lose count, and then we'd have to start all over again."

"No."

Harry frowned. "No?"

"We'd start over at two. I hate first times."


End file.
